Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
He’s grinning now. I want to scream. This is going so wrong. I stumble backward, mind racing, until I bump into the side table he was sitting near. I knock the bottle of whiskey over and watch it crash against the carpet.
“Oh, shit!” I say, backing away.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarls, shoving me sideways. I stagger and turn an ankle on my heels. I yelp in pain as he bends over and grabs the whiskey bottle. “Fuck, this was Glenfiddich 50, you dumb fucking whore. Do you have any idea how expensive this shit is?” He waves the bottle in the air. It’s nearly empty now.
“Sorry, so sorry, clumsy. I’m very sorry.” I sit and hang my head. I’m shaking all over, terrified out of my mind. I’m waiting for Shane to hit me like he always does. I’ve never known him to hold back, not when he’s mad.
Of all my brothers, Shane likes violence the best, especially using his own two hands. I remember him laughing gleefully, slapping me across the face over and over, and explaining how a man isn’t a man before he’s beaten a woman into submission.
Shane takes a pull from the bottle and curses when it’s the last drop. He throws it back down on the carpet and pulls a baggie from his back pocket. “God, I’m going to wreck you now, Darya. You have no idea.” He sets up a line of coke and snorts it recklessly from the table. His eyes are bright and shining. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re bloody, you worthless cunt. You’re going to earn the price of that bottle. I’m going to break you over and over, and I promise, my dick’s going to stay hard for a very long time.”
Every part of me wants to run. I’m struggling to sit still. I have to grip my knees to keep myself from screaming Finn’s name and begging him for help. Shane’s going to kill me. He’s going to rip off my mask and beat me to death. He’s gotten close before, but this time, he won’t stop.
He snorts a second line and growls with excitement. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. He opens his shirt the rest of the way.
“What the fuck are you still sitting there for, bitch? Get your clothes off. I want you on your knees. Get my fucking dick stiff with that mouth.”
“Yes, yes, I will.” I stand, knees shaking.
“You better suck dick good. I’m going to choke you with my cock. God, Glenfiddich 50 dumped on the fucking floor. You have no idea how much I hate you right now, but there’s nothing better than a hate fuck. I’m going to bruise you, Darya. I’ll pay your pimp off, don’t worry. They won’t complain. But you will.”
I whimper, petrified, and he likes that. Shane laughs madly as he grabs the wine bottle. I stand there, feeling tiny and weak, tears rolling down my face. He’d probably like it if he knew I was crying. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think. I’m trapped by years of abuse and trauma. I never should’ve thought I could handle this. He’s going to hurt me, hurt me, again and again, and it won’t ever stop this time—
Shane takes a long swig from the wine bottle. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get on your fucking knees, bitch.” He unzips his pants and reaches in for his cock. “Da fuck… you lookin…” His words slur and he frowns, confused. “Da fuck? Ya blurry? Wha da fuh’s happen… yah bish…”
He lunges at me, snarling.
I leap back, snapping myself out of my stupor. “Finn!” I shout. “Finn! Finn! Now!”
Shane growls and grabs my ankle as I try to scramble away. “Fuh you, bish… gonna fuh you blubby…”
The door smashes in. Shane yanks me toward him. My mask slips and falls free, and for a moment, my brother stares blearily down into my eyes.
There’s a glimmer of recognition.
Finn’s on him a second later, yanking Shane off me. Which isn’t easy, considering Shane’s easily six-foot-six and three hundred pounds. He’s bigger and heavier than Finn, but he’s woozy.
“The poison!” I gasp, edging away toward the corner of the room. “He took a drink!”
Shane grunts, swinging at Finn. It’s brutal and off balance, but it strikes Finn in the chest. Finn staggers back, cursing, and Shane’s on him. The two men struggle, hitting and punching, kicking and cursing. I keep waiting for Shane to die, for his breathing to stop, for his heart to give out—but instead, it’s only like he’s been drugged. But my brother’s on so much cocaine that it’s not knocking him out all the way.
I realize with a sickening horror that this must’ve been Finn’s plan the whole time.
Shane pummels the floor where Finn was a second earlier. Finn comes up and kicks Shane in the jaw. Blood splatters the bedspread. Shane rolls, grabs the whiskey bottle, and bashes Finn in the leg. Finn yells, staggers, and Shane hits him again. Even clumsy and dazed, Shane’s a force from hell. Finn leaps over Shane’s next attack and slams a knee into my brother’s face, cracking his head back. More blood sprays the wall. Shane hits Finn in the mouth, and Finn spits blood across the carpet.